The King's Squire
by Rilain
Summary: A young, recently 'orphaned' elf is taken into the service of the King Elessar. Mentions or Aragorn, Legolas, Eldarion, and OC sisters. Nonslash


Before I actually start writing this, I had better tell you this wasn't my idea. It was El's. She wanted me to _record _how I came to Gondor and what I did there! Never mind that I tell her (and others) the tale whenever they ask, but actually recording it! She _knows_ I despise writing. When it's necessary I can write twice as fast as Elfwine, but I would rather not. Oh, well; I don't suppose people will ever read this, but when Elluin asks me to do something, I do it if it's in my power.

My story begins as a normal day for me then would start. Adar and I woke up from one of our rare sleeps and were walking around the wooded lands that adar called Ithilian. Throughout the morning he gave me instruction with a sword, gathering food, and various other activities. When it came time for our noon meal, I was chopping wood for the fire, and father was preparing the meal when I heard a cry that sounded terribly harsh and uncouth to my ears. Alas, how often I was to hear it in the future!

Father sighed as he always did when he was remembering something unpleasant form his past. And his life-story was long indeed! He had even told me tales of Gondolin, over 6000 years old! Then he did something that startled me. Adar got down on his knees, placed his hands on his my shoulders, and said, "Beren, there is a large force of orcs swiftly coming this way. Take my sword and run to the hidden fortress that I showed you the other day. Understand?"

Concerned, I looked at him. "Adar, you won't have a weapon! Why can't we both run together?"

Father sadly smiled at me. "They will be here too soon, Ren. If you run now, you will escape. Go now, my son, for the enemy is almost upon us."

My eyes filled with tears as Father strapped the huge sword to my back. "Will I ever see you again, Ada?"

"Valar permit we will meet once again, my son. Now run!"

I ran, and at one point turned around and saw a flaming branch being used to fight the vermin, but the dense forest clouded much from view. Weeping, I continued running.

I later learned that there had been no need for adar to face the orcs then, that he could have run with me. But things would be a _lot_ different now if he had done that. And, in my opinion, not for the better. Oh, and I still don't know anyone (besides my brother and sister) whose father was at the fall of Gondolin.

A few days ago adar had shown me a hidden refuge in the forest, and said that if anything should ever happen to him, I must go there. Of course, he hadn't said what I should do there if I ever needed to go to the refuge, but I trusted my father's judgement and ran towards Henneth-Annûn.

It took me two full days of traveling to reach the fortress. Elves, even young ones, are hardy travelers, and can travel for days in even the harshest conditions, which these were not. During both of the days I had sunny skies and no rain, for which I was grateful. Travelling in mud is always unpleasant! Not to say I'm as fussy as Barahir, but honestly, who in his right mind likes travelling in the mud?

The first time I saw a human it fascinated me that any living being walked with such noise. How did they stay hidden from unfriendly eyes? Although at that time I had never actually communicated with any living being besides adar, I had seen all of the other races, from halflings in the North to the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. But I had never been to Rivendell or Mirkwood where dwelt the majority of my kin. I never wondered at this, for I knew that Father had his own reasons, but even thinking back on it later, I should have been even somewhat suspicious of that!

It was nightfall when I came to the human fortress, Henneth-Annûn. I crept past the guards, but couldn't remember there being so many of them when adar had showed me the fortress a few days before.

The first thing I noticed was a whiff of food and drink coming from somewhere within. I grinned happily. Just because I could go for long periods without eating or drinking didn't mean I liked doing that. I still don't. When we elves want to eat, we eat. Just ask the King. He's the one who had to feed me for half a century. Now it's kind of backlashed and I'm feeding his people, but I'm straying from the point here.

On the way to the food I passed through a room filled with weapons. I felt around and took (okay, stole) a small dagger and made a mental note to get a bow from here when I was big enough to carry father's sword at my side instead of on my back. Father had made me a small bow when I was younger, but I had lost it a couple of weeks ago when father and I were camping by the Anduin River. Father had been in the process of making another one for me, but a half-completed bow wouldn't have been much help to the me at the moment. I wonder what happened to that bow. Probably decomposed by now.

Staying in the shadows, I crept through a number of dark rooms, which occasionally had a torch in them, before I at last reached the room with the food and drink (just how big was this place?) The food was spread out on a counter, ready for the morning meal. It looked fit for a king, let alone me, a supposedly orphaned elfling.

I took the heavy sword off my back (utterly stupid of me, but it _was_ quite heavy, and I wasn't too big or strong at the time) and set it on a small table beside me, muttering in Sindarin how kingly it looked, and then I started to eat. After a few minutes I looked at the table beside me, only to discover Father's sword was missing! I whirled around, drawing the dagger in the same motion, and felt the keen blade hit flesh. I then found, to my horror that a very tall man stood right in front of me, and was holding Fathers' sword. What nerve the man had, touching it! My gaze flew to the man's hand, which had a gash across it and was bleeding onto the floor.

"That's a nice sword you have, although it seems a bit big for you," the man said quietly in perfect Sindarin. I blinked. Humans weren't supposed to know elvish! Father had never spoken Common, and the only tongues I knew at that time were Sindarin and a little bit of Quenya.

"It was my father's," I replied, somewhat warily. "Why did ya take it?"

"Why did you take my food?" the man countered.

"Cause I was hungry," I declared. "I ain't eaten in two days."

The man reached out with his good hand and gently touched one of my pointed ears, and then one of my locks of blonde hair. "That ain't much for an elf." He laughed ruefully. "I, of all humans, should know."

"But you ain't an elf."

"No, but I have some very good friends that are elves," the man said, smiling kindly. He drew Father's sword out of its sheath. "A very fine sword indeed. Where is your father know?"

"I dunno," I replied, slightly choked up. "A whole bunch of orcs attacked us two days ago. Ada sent me away, in hope that I might survive. He's either dead er captured. He's the best warrior I've seen, but there were a lot of orcs."

The man's eyes immediately softened. "I'm sorry, lad. My father was killed by orcs, too."

I nodded, and saw the man's hand, which by this time had dripped a good deal of blood on the floor. "Oh, yer hand!" I exclaimed. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. I was a bit scared." I still held the dagger out in front of me, not trusting the man, even though he appeared to be very kind.

The man responded by quickly reaching out with his good hand and twisting the dagger out of my hand. "That's alright with me, but now you're unarmed and in a good deal of trouble, having been caught stealing red-handed and drawing my blood."

An older boy came running to the entrance of the room at that point, and seemed horrified, having caught the last few of the man's words. At a few words from the man, the boy stayed outside the door.

"Can I go?" I demanded; thinking to myself, how could one mortal man's blood vary from another's?

"I'm afraid not," the reply came. "Most people here you could have cut would have just gotten angry at you. I won't get angry with you, but the law will. Also, I may be able to help you."

I was later told that at that point I wore a very confused look. "Why?"

"My name is Aragorn Elessar, High King of Gondor and Arnor."

I stared at him in awe and admiration, then bowed as best as I could. "My name's Beren Ellenroh, m'lord. And I'm terribly sorry 'bout yer hand."

The King laughed. "Oh, it's just a scratch." He beckoned to the entranceway. "Bergil, you may come in." The boy, Bergil, came in and groaned as he saw the blood on the floor.

"I'll go get a bandage and something to clean this up, sire," the boy said in what to my ears at that time terrible Sindarin.

I sighed. "So what are ya gonna do ta me, m'lord?" I held out my hands, fully expecting them to be at the least bound.

Elessar sighed thoughtfully. "Well, by your looks your too young for the law's full punishment. I can't let you go free, either." He muttered a few things to himself in Common for a while, and then sat down. The King looked with amusement at my outstretched hands. "You can put them down, lad. I'm not going to chop them off." I was very relieved as I put my hands down to my sides.

After a minute or so Bergil returned. While he cleaned up the floor and the King bandaged his hand, the held a rather lengthy conversation in  
Common. I couldn't understand a word of it, and it frustrated me.

Finally the King turned to me, still standing in front of the food. "Do you know what a squire is, lad?" I nodded. "What about an _ohtar_?"

"No sir."

"An _ohtar_ is a knight-in-training who is eighteen to twenty years old. He has the skills to become a knight, but during those three years he may be a number of things. A messenger, a bodyguard, during times of war a Knight. Understand?" I nodded. "Bergil, my current squire, is seventeen years old. Next year he will go through the tests to become an _ohtar_. Then I'm on the search for another squire. What we've decided is that Bergil will train you to become my squire, as you have not had the basic training the other boys have had. You'd have to learn Common as well. When we deem you ready to take over, Bergil will concentrate solely on preparing for the tests, except if for some reason you are unable. I'll be staying here for a month or so, and that'll give you time at the least to get a grasp on Westron. All of my guards have squires, and seeing how this is a formal visit, you'll meet them during this month. This way I can help you and punish you for stealing and attacking me. Sound good?"

I gaped at him, then remembered my manners, and shut my mouth. I would have never refused a chance to be well trained, well fed, or to be with a bunch of boys my age, let alone all three! And to be in the service of the High King? It was an honour many boys dreamed of, but only a few got. It is also an honour a lot harder than it sounds. "I, it will be an honour to serve you, milord."

"Very well then. You know how to read?"

"Yes sir. My father taught me how."

The King grinned. "Good. That'll make Bergil's job a whole lot easier. There's still a long while 'til dawn, so Bergil will show you where you're going to sleep."

"Thank you! I've been travelin' fer two days without sleep, so a rest will be very welcome."

Bergil stared at him. "Two days? Yer only a boy. How…"

"Bergil, need I have to repeat the capabilities of elves to you?" the King interrupted. "Even an elf Beren's age could travel at least five days without food or rest. But now you'd best be taking him to a bed. Come back here after."

Bergil led me through large rooms full of rows of sleeping men into a small chamber. "You can sleep here for now. You might have a different bed tomorrow. You can't speak Westron, right?" I nodded, and he grinned. "Then I'll bet my Sindarin will be a whole lot better in a couple months!" (Which, to note, it was.)

Because I slept until late the next morning, the King had time to tell his men about the night's events, and Bergil had time to tell the squires of their new comrade. There was no doubt about one thing – I would be the topic of conversation for many days, and even more when the King went back to the City.

The next day I woke up to a stone room flooded in sunlight. I couldn't remember having ever slept so long in one stretch before. Beside the bed were some clothes, twin daggers, and a note. I read the note, quickly changed into the clothes, strapped one dagger to my right side, and stuck the other up my left sleeve. I then got up and wandered out of the room, unsure of where to go. I was peering down one hallway when suddenly a brown-haired boy who looked the same age as myself ran right into me! He took one look at my blonde hair and pointed ears and began speaking to me in fairly decent Sindarin.

"Sorry 'bout that. The name's Menion. You must be Beren."

I stared at him suspiciously. "How did ya know that?"

Menion grinned mischievously. "Yer the topic of conversation this mornin'."

I groaned. I still hate it when people do that to me. Some things just never change. "How come you can speak Sindarin so fluently? The other boy I met sounded horrible."

"My father's a language master back at the City, and he speaks a lot o' Sindarin. This fascinated Prince Faramir, and now I'm his squire. He loves languages as well."

"Yes, and I feel sorry for 'im that the squire who could speak Sindarin was also the most mischievous boy in the history of Middle-Earth!" Bergil said. Menion looked hurt. "And Menion, what are ya doin' in this part o' the fortress? It doesn't appear that you're on an errand, or have any messages." Menion protested in Common, but Bergil cut him off and continued. "I think we'll have a talk with Prince Faramir about this – I've found ya in here more than once. Beren, the King wishes ta speak with you. "

As I followed Bergil and Menion, who were still arguing, to the King's office where I was to go, it seemed to me that Bergil possessed a sort of authority over Menion. Although I didn't yet know this, all the other squires admired and respected the King's squire, similar to the way Gondorian men admired and respected the King.

We reached what was the first real room I had seen upon arriving. Bergil opened the door, and I saw it was the King's office. The King raised an eyebrow upon seeing Menion, who was now being dragged along by an ear.

"He was… where he wasn't supposed to be, again, sire."

"Ah. Beren, come in lad." I politely closed the door and came and stood in front of the King's magnificent desk. _What if he changed his mind and I will be punished by law?_ I thought. The King seemed to sense what I was thinking. "I haven't changed my mind, lad, and I'm not going to. Here, sit down and have something to eat."

I immediately sat down and began eating. Besides a few bites the previous night, I hadn't eaten in two days, and as I mentioned before, I have quite an appetite.

I finished the food set before me quickly. I could have eaten more, but I had finished what had been set before me, and even at that time I knew it was not my place to ask for more. Besides, the amount of food I had eaten would have sustained me for a couple days at the least.

I sat patiently and waited for the King to finish writing. At the time I had no way of knowing it, but Aragorn was writing to Legolas in Ithilian and Arwen in Minas Tirith, telling them about me. I highly suspect that Legolas' 'surprise' visit was not a surprise at all, but even now the King will not tell me whether or not I'm right.

The King finished the letters, sealed them, and looked at me. "Food, and you didn't have to steal it this time!"

I blushed, but also laughed, knowing that the King didn't hold the previous night against me.

"I see you're wearing the clothes and daggers Bergil left for you." Elessar frowned as he saw the one. "Wouldn't you where your daggers on either side, though? And where is the other one?"

I grinned – this was going to be a surprise for the King, no matter how many elves he had met in his lifetime. "I'm left-handed, sire. I can use a dagger in ma left hand if I have to, but not near half as well as in me left. The other one is up my sleeve." I showed it to him, then put it back.

The King stared at me in shock – one of the few times over the years that he's done that. "I've only met one left-handed elf in my life, and that's saying something. My father himself had only known five or six, and all but one died."

"Who was that one, sir?"

"Glorfindel, Elrond's chief advisor, and probably his best friend."

I'm sure my eyes widened. "Mi father used ta tell me tales of Glorfindel of Gondolin. My father was there, sir. Right at the Fall!"

Elessar laughed. "There is much more to you than meets the eye, lad. What was your father's name?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Afore comin' here, the only person I'd ever talked with was father, and he never told me his or my mother's name. I never had reason to wonder before today." How lonely I must have been! I forget what it was like, but I don't think I'd survive if I had to do that again.

"You're adapting really well for having never talked to anyone but your father before. Now the reason I called you in here was to tell you about the duties and formalities of being a squire, and to give you your first lesson in the Common tongue. Bergil will tell you about the customs within the squires, and will introduce you to the boys. Are you alright with that?"

I nodded. The King and I spent the hour before lunch talking about my current duties and such. I remember that we were just about to start the language lessons when the lunch horn rang.

"We'll get to the Common after the noon meal," Elessar said, standing up. "You'll sit with the boys. Stick close to Bergil and you'll be fine. Most of the boys eleven and twelve can speak at least crude Sindarin – some of them almost as fluent as Menion. You might even catch a few phrases in Westron as well."

"Maybe," I replied, smiling happily. I was very grateful for being allowed to sit with the other squires, and hoped they'd accept having an elf as a comrade.

The King and I left the office and ran into Bergil, who took me to the room where the squires ate and hung out when they weren't busy. There were around three dozen boys there, and I was quite quick to notice that I was the only one to have blonde hair or blue eyes, let alone both. I was the center of attention as I made my way with Bergil to the head of the table. Menion also sat beside me, for which I was grateful. Bergil took a quick count, then satisfied that everyone was present he stood, and they all face the West in a moment of respectful silence. I did as well, of course, thinking at the time that it was a very strange custom. It is now second nature. Bergil sat down and then the room was filled with the sounds of talk (which I couldn't understand), laughter, and eating.

There was one thing that puzzled me. Weren't we supposed to be serving the knights? I asked Bergil about this, and he laughed. "This is probably the least formal setting we're ever in. In Henneth-Annûn there's maybe been one or two times where we've waited on them, but we usually eat in here."

My eyes brightened. "Good." Some of the boys sitting beside Bergil and Menion stared at the me with wonder – never in a being so young had they had they heard the foreign language spoken so fluently, except for the King's children, but they were exceptions (of course). They really should have expected it from me though, considering my race. It's remarkable how dense some people are.

I finished eating quickly, seeing as how I had eaten a full meal an hour ago. I listened intently to the conversations around me, my keen elven hearing picking up all the conversation in the room.

After they were done eating some of the boys started asking me basic questions such as how old I was and wondering if I really attacked the King. I was thrilled that the boys were talking to me, and so happily replied. One of the boys, Dran, asked me about my parents, unknowing that I was most likely an orphan. Unshed tears ran down my face as I remembered my father. Bergil stood and gestured for me to follow him. "Come, the King will be needing us."

I was quickly out of the room, and when we were a fair distance from the hall Bergil stopped. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I nodded, and wiped away the tears that were freely running down my face. "It just brings back so many memories."

"Although I can't relate to that, I can understand it," Bergil replied, his eyes filled with pity. "Come on, let's go." I wiped away my remaining tears and followed the Bergil.

The King spotted us as we reached the knight's eating area, and came over and talked to Bergil in Common, his face concerned.

After a while the King started walking to his office, myself trailing dutifully behind. The King motioned for me to sit down. "Bergil told me you were listening to the Common spoken at lunch."

I stared at him. "How did he know that?"

"Your face can show many things to one who knows what to look for," Elessar replied, smiling at me. "Now we're going to try to bring some meaning to those phrases. What did you pick up?" Elessar is the best teacher I've ever known, and by the time the supper bell rang I knew many simple greetings, farewells, and common phrases. I also had a good idea of how Westron was grammatically structured.

The evening meal went a lot better for me then the noon one had. For one, I knew some of what the boys were saying, and Bergil encouraged me to talk to them in Westron. If there were words or phrases I couldn't understand, Bergil or Menion translated it for me, which was really very kind of them. Dran apologized to me, which really wasn't necessary, but it helped me to feel a sense of belonging. I also made a point of asking and remembering the names of each boy I met.

From listening to the conversations around me, I was able to discover that a squire whom my companions referred to as Drake was gone off with his knight master and wouldn't be back for twenty days. It sounded to me that Drake was considered to be the leader of the boys my age. I asked Bergil about it.

"Oh, Draken," scoffed Bergil. "His family's more pure-blooded than the other boys your age, and he is able to do things better than the other boys his age. His father is the King's chief advisor – why I have no idea. He's not gonna be happy that an elf is here and drawing more attention after being here one day than he's ever got in the eleven years he's been alive. Before he was assigned a knight master he always wanted to get our position. He still does. It's absolute folly, of course. I was fifteen when he turned ten, and the King would never take him anyway. Are you good at fighting?"

I nodded. "Father taught me ever since I could lift a stick. I've never actually practiced with a metal sword, but I'd reckon that I'm strong enough. I'm also really good with a bow."

"Most elves are," Bergil agreed. "Are you able to fight without weapons?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I don't usually approve of this, but often squires get into fist fights over different things, and I can see Drake challenging you over a number of different matters. He usually manages to get into a fight at least twice every week – usually more often."

I winced. "You mean he'd challenge me because I'm an elf and the King's squire?"

"Yes."

I pondered this for a moment. "Bergil, do ya think I'd be able ta stay up an' work on lessons while you humans er sleeping?"

That was the only time when I've ever asked for extra lessons – when I was learning the Gondorian customs. I didn't do it because I liked lessons; I did it so I could fit in sooner. One must do what one must do, after all.

I noticed – somewhat smugly – that Bergil was rather startled by this question. "I honestly don't know, Ren; you'd have ta ask the King."

I nodded. "I'll ask 'im after supper. He gonna test how good I am with a sword en a bow and give me some weapons. Did ya know I'm left-handed?"

Menion, who – knowing him - had been eavesdropping, nearly choked on his food. "A left-handed elf? I weren't a knowin' there was such a thing!"

I laughed. "I'm not surprised. Left-handed elves are _very _rare. The King himself 'ad only met one afore me, en 'e said the Lord Elrond 'ad only met five er six."

"Interesting," Bergil mused. "Very interesting. I never knew there were left-handed elves either. Are there right-handed elves?"

I nodded. "Far less o' them than the ambidextrous elves, far more than the left-handed ones."

After supper I trudged along to the King's office where I was to meet my master before going to the weapons/training room. I found the King waiting at the door already, and we proceeded along to the weapons room.

"Sire, would it be possible fer me ta study while the rest o' the garrison's sleepin'?"

The King chuckled. "Of course. Just make sure you don't disturb anyone. How often do you rest?"

"Once a week when I'm not up ta much, sir. I might go to twice a week now."

"And how long do you sleep for?"

"I usually just sleep fer a couple o' hours, sir. When I'm really drained – like last night – I'll sleep the whole night through. Sometimes I'll just wander 'round under the sky."

"That would be about right," the King replied, more to himself than to me. "It's less than what my brothers and father slept, but they had less elven blood." He laughed ruefully. "I remember when the twins used to drive their mother and I insane with their odd sleeping times. It's a lot better now."

"How old are they, milord?" I inquired politely.

"Ah, let's see. The twins are almost nine, Ecthelion is seven, Aranel is three, and another is on the way. You'd probably be about a year older than Eldarion."

"About that," I agreed.

"Here we are," the King said, throwing back a pair of double doors to reveal a large stone room lined with many racks of assorted weapons. I gaped at the room, having never seen so many weapons before, and he smiled at me. "You, my lad, will have a few of these before the night is old. But first we will see which of them suit you. You are too small yet to use your father's sword, but when you've grown enough I will give it back to you. Let's see what skill you have with a blade."

Elessar tested me for his sword-fighting skills, and wasn't disappointed.

I remember him telling me when I was younger that some day I would become a blade master. His predictions were true. I'm now probably one of the top ten sword-masters in Middle-earth.

He gave me a light rapier, promising me that I would get a heavier weapon as soon as I adjusted to having a metal blade.

I was then tested on my archery. Now if the King was impressed with my sword fighting abilities, he was amazed at how good I was with a bow. He gave me a bow that at the time seemed quite large.

The King then showed me some of the other weapons that were used by the army, such as spears and pikes and slings. He told me that later in my training I would be taught how to use them, but for now I would stick with a sword and a bow.

The next morning after all the humans were awake I could speak Common in rough, accented, but understandable sentences. I was told to now speak only in Westron unless he spoke to me in elvish. Throughout the day I had great help not only from Bergil and the King, but also from my fellow squires and their knight masters. If I didn't know a word, or was confused about a tradition, they would kindly help me out. I don't know how I would have ever survived in the City if they hadn't helped me out in Henneth-Annûn first.

By my third day in the human fortress the King and Bergil thought I was ready to attend afternoon training with the boys.

I was very grateful that archery was first. When I saw the target I almost laughed. Five years ago I had been hunting at distances three times greater! But they were humans with only a few years of training, so it was understandable that they would have to start with something easy.

I was one of the last in line to shoot, and I wondered how it was possible not to hit the center of the large target. I took my five arrows, and shot them all into the center, being very careful not to split them.

All my comrades and our current teacher, Paldin, stared at me in shock. Paldin handed me five more arrows. "Can you do that again, Beren?"

"Yes sir. Is it alright if I split them?"

The knight stared at me, then smiled. "If you can do that, go for it."

I split the five arrows that I already had shot onto the red and white board, to the great amazement of those in the room. Paldin kept handing me arrows until I had created a pattern like a sun on the board.

"I've never seen anything like that," Paldin said in awe.

"It isn't uncommon amongst elves," the King, who had been standing in the doorway, unnoticed until now said. "Although most don't have the boy's artistic flare."

I blushed, but smiled and bowed at the compliment. I knew already then that I was an unusually talented artist – my father had told me so – but I had not yet told the King.

"Beren, come with me now. Someone has arrived that I would like you to meet."

I hung up my bow and eagerly ran over to where the King was standing. As we walked towards his office, the King started questioning me.

"Beren, do you know who the Fellowship is?"

"Of course! Uh, no offence sir. They, uh, you brought about the downfall of the Dark Lord."

The King chuckled. "That's one way to put it. What I meant was do you know the names of the members of the Fellowship?"

I nodded. "Yes sire. My father taught them to me." Mithrandir, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Frodo, Samwise, Meriodac, and Peregrin. They are probably the nine best-known names of modern Middle-Earth.

"Good."

When we arrived at the King's office I was surprised to see Bergil happily conversing with a well-dressed blonde elf.

I had never seen another elf up close before (besides father), and my stomach started fluttering as I realized who this must be. Legolas started looking me up and down, and I got the feeling he had seen me before, even though I had never seen him. It often happens when one has a twin.

"Ren, this is my good friend Prince Legolas Greenleaf. Legolas, this is my new squire, Beren Ellenroh."

I stared at him in awe, but the Prince smiled kindly at me. "Hello Beren. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Hello, sir," I stammered. I was flattered that the King would pull me out of lessons to meet one of the heroes of the Great Wars.

The Prince grimaced. "I don't care _what_ Estel tells you, please just call me Legolas." He turned to the King. "Did you know, the lad looks exactly like my nephew Barahir. Except for the hair. But for that, I would have called him Barahir."

The King frowned. "I haven't seen Barahir in a while, so I couldn't see. And I don't suppose Ren could accurately draw what he looked like twenty years ago."

"But I could sir," I blurted out. "Ada says I've always been good at drawing." I stopped as the three of them looked at me, and bit my tongue.

The King shook his head and smiled slightly. "I should have known. Bergil, get some parchment and ink and let's see what the boy can do."

As I drew the picture, the King and Legolas talked, the former throwing occasional glances my way. I finished it, then waited for a pause in their talking before drawing attention to myself. "Sire?"

Elessar looked over at me. "Yes, Beren?"

"I finished, sir." I handed the paper over to him and watched as his eyes widened. He shoved the paper into his friends' hands, muttering something I couldn't understand. Legolas' eyes widened as he looked at it. "Is it alright milord?"

"Alright!" Elessar exclaimed. "It's incredible! I've never seen anything like it!"

"I have my doubts that Fëanor himself could have done better!" Legolas added.

Suddenly the King frowned and beckoned Bergil over to him. "Bergil, did you ask Ren about his talents?"

"Of course sir."

"He didn't mention anything about art?"

"No sir."

I gulped as the King eyes locked onto mine. "Well, Beren?"

"I, uh, I didn't want to tell you in case I had to do extra work, sir," I confessed. There's something about that man's eyes that make you tell the truth, even if you don't want to. It's driven me crazy over the years, and got me into a _lot_ of trouble.

The King and Legolas looked at each other and chuckled. "That was a very brave thing to say, just now, Beren. Either very brave, or stupid."

"Yes, sir," I muttered, and looked down at my toes.

"But I can hardly punish you for something that I would have done had I been in your shoes."

I looked up, alarmed. "_You_ would have done the same thing too, sir?"

The King smiled. "Of course. Most young boys would do anything to get out of work, although some do take it to extremes." He smiled guiltily, and I grinned. "But you were right about having to do extra work. I think I may have found something to occupy part of your nights," he said, and I groaned. Just wonderful. And if he wanted me to do art for part of my nights, what would I do during the other part? "I'll talk you about that a little later, though. I thought that you might want to talk to Legolas and ask him about what you missed growing up," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

And that was how Legolas and I became good friends. Well, a friend isn't exactly the right word. He was more like an older brother to me than anything else, at least until I found out who I really was.

I honestly wonder if the King knew what would happen as a result of that night. Knowing how often the foretelling comes to him, it could very well be so.

I will always remember that night very well. We talked about countless things, including what it was like living in an Elven or human country, customs of different lands, what my life was like before my father died. He told me stories about him and Aragorn, and the scrapes they had gotten into many years ago. Legolas also told me about Eldarion and Elluin, what sort of people they were, what they enjoyed doing, and such. He thought I would get along quite well with them, which turned out to be a gross understatement.

Legolas stayed at the fortress for a few more days, and if he spent a lot of time with me, no one complained. He was also the only person currently there who could teach me anything of archery. He was very impressed, and said he would greatly like to meet my father who had taught me so well in archery.

A couple days after he left, I was called down to the King's office and given the duties I was to do until we left for the City. I was to be kept busy twenty four hours a day, six days a week, for the King had discovered that I was indeed somewhat of a prankster. 'The best way for keeping you out of trouble is to keep you busy,' he explained to me then, and has many times since. Although I did still managed to pull a good number of pranks working those hours.

I love it when I spend time in Henneth-Annûn, whether I'm working or on vacation. I like being away from all the hustle and clamor that comes from being in large cities, from all the formalities and such. Those twenty days were some of the best I have ever had in my life. The only thing that would have made it better is if the twins had been there.

During those weeks I gained a lot of respect from my fellow comrades. Part of it was because I was the King's squire, part of it was because of my abilities in weaponry, and part of it was because I was being me (a prankster who is good at getting into trouble and thinking up great games that our masters don't really like!). I was good at my duties and lessons, though. I worked as hard as I could (most of the time) and rarely, if ever, complained. All this was good until Draken came.

I really didn't mind the fellow, until he started being nasty to me and flirting with El (which came later). After that, it was war.

We were in archery class, and it was twenty days since I had come to the fortress. By this point, I had only a moderate accent, and, as I said before, was quite popular amongst the boys and was declared the leader of the ones around my age.

We were taking turns shooting, and as usual, I was helping the other boys as well. Edorion poked me.

"Ren, Drake's here." I looked at the door to see a sullen looking brown haired boy standing at the door. His eyes were riveted onto me, but they broke off as soon as I looked at him.

Bergil took a quick look at the door before notifying Paldin. "Ah, Draken, come on in."

Drake scowled before coming in and taking his place in one of the lines. He shot just before me, and all five of his arrows hit the center ring, at which I was fairly impressed.

I shot next, and split the first two arrows that I had shot into the center. With my last arrow, I then proceeded to split one of the halves.

Paldin laughed. "Your consistency never ceases to amaze me, Ren." He then moved the target to the upper left-hand corner.

I stole a glance at Drake, and noticed he was glaring at me.

"Darn elf," I heard him mutter. I could hardly stop myself from laughing. So he was jealous, was he? I couldn't wait until he saw my art.

"Beren, are you supposed to leave soon?" the teacher asked.

"Not yet, sir. I'd say ten more minutes," I replied.

"Edorion," Drake hissed, "why would that elf leave?"

I guess he forgot how elven hearing is. I continued listening, as this was sounding quite interesting.

Edorion narrowed his eyes. "His name is Beren. They're gonna leave 'cause the King reckons that Ren needs more practice in Common and such than archery, as you probably noticed."

Drake glowered. "His Common sounded fine to me."

I nearly choked trying not to laugh.

Edorion, on the other hand, openly showed his amusement at Draken's comment. "That's 'cause ya only heard 'im speak a few words, Drake. When he came here, twenty days ago, he couldn't speak or understand a word of Common, not even 'hello'."

Drake sneered. "Then what did he speak?"

"Sindarin. He speaks it as good, if not better than the King." Edorion suddenly grinned. "I reckon he could help ya with your lessons."

Drake's eyes held a dangerous light. "And pray, what lessons do I need help with?"

"Sindarin," Edorion replied, looking strangely at Drake. "Everyone knows you've bullied Menion into doing your work ever since…" That's as far as Edorion got before Drake punched him soundly in the jaw. Most of the boys crowded around them, so it took a couple of minutes before Paldin could stop it. He grabbed them and held them apart with a little help from Bergil.

"What do you boys think you're doing?" Paldin demanded. "Never mind, I don't want to know. And Draken, is this how you act after three week's out on the field? I pity Geran, who I'd imagine will like to a few words with you." He turned to Edorion, who was his squire. "And I'll talk to you after class. Anymore fight's this class, and those involved will wish they had never been born."

I left at that point to go study some history books. These last ten days were going to be very interesting indeed.

The remaining ten days went by swiftly. I never actually talked with Draken, but I'd often catch him glaring at me, or hear him muttering about 'that darn elf'.

Riding back to the city was an interesting experience. I had never ridden a horse before, so I sat behind Bergil on the way back. Oh, was I sore! After that ride I wanted to kill every horse I saw!

I clearly remember the first time I saw Minas Anar, shining white in the midday sun. I nearly fell of Bergil's horse, so touched was I from the beauty of that sight. I now had something new to draw, and for that I was very happy.

I got a few stares as we rode up the streets, but not too many. Elves were quite common in the city, and so most people didn't give me a second thought.

When we got up to the Citadel, four children, the eldest two my age, rushed over to the King and embraced him fiercely. There were two black-haired ones (a boy and a girl) which I reckoned were the twins; a brown-haired lad who must be  
Ecthelion; and a golden-haired girl who still looked to be a toddler and who I reckoned must be Aranel.

"Ada, why were you away for so long?" the eldest girl, Elluin, asked. "We missed you."

"I'm sorry, my dear. I missed you very much too, but I had to go away and do some adult-work," the King explained, his eyes shining with compassion.

Suddenly, all four children caught sight of a blonde figure behind me. "Uncle Legolas!" They swarmed upon him, leaving Elessar free to great his pregnant wife. But my eyes continued to follow Elluin. Even at nine years of age I thought she was gorgeous. Dressed in a sleeveless, light blue dress that fell to her knees…

The boy twin, Eldarion, broke away from Legolas before the others and came over and gave Bergil a hug. "Well now, how's my elven prince doing?" my mentor asked.

The Prince grinned. "Good," he replied. "I've missed our pillow fights, though." They both laughed, and I felt a pang of jealously, for I had never had anyone to do that with before.

Eldarion then noticed me, and gave me a curious look. "Who is this?" he asked.

My best friend has often forgiven me for not asking me myself. Of course, it was usually because I had a sword at his throat or was sitting on him, but never mind that…

"This is my new squire, Beren Ellenroh," the King replied, coming over and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"What about Bergil?" the Prince asked.

"Bergil is almost ready to become an _ohtar_," the King replied. "In a couple weeks he will begin studying for his tests, and Beren will take over his duties."

Elluin notice my ears, and pointed at them. "You're an elf."

I grinned, delighted that she was talking to me. "I am, your highness."

Both she and her twin made faces. "Please, just call us our names. Formalities are _so_ tedious."

I looked up at the King to get his approval, and he nodded. "Are you a full blooded elf?" Eldarion asked.

I nodded. "Both my parents were elves."

"Darn," muttered Eldarion. "You can hear better than us!" This sent most of the adults laughing. Arwen, however, looked at me with pity in her eyes.

"Your parents are dead?"

"Yes, milady. My mother died shortly after I was born, and last I saw my father he was fighting off three score orcs."

"I'm sorry, Beren. That must be very hard for you."

"Dar, El, why don't you show Beren around the Citadel?" the King suggested. "Take Bergil with you."

"Yes, father!"

Thus began my friendship with the twins. They didn't have very many close friends, and those that they did have usually lived far away. I was a great delight to them, and the fact that I was an elf made us understand each other on levels that wouldn't have been possible had I been human.

And so I settled in to life in the Citadel. Six days a week, I would attend morning and afternoon lessons, and for the rest of the time I would do whatever the King wanted me to do. During those six nights, I had five hours to myself and the rest of the time would be occupied with artwork, archery practice, swimming, and work on my sword forms. On Sunday's, I usually didn't have to do any work, although there were some exceptions. My favourite times of the week, though, were the three nights that Eldarion and I would sneak into the kitchens and snitch and morsel or two. We would then go to an unused room and talk for a while before retreating back to our rooms. We didn't tell anyone of this, not even Elluin, in case we got in trouble.

One night, as we were sneaking back to our rooms, each with a snack and a flagon of juice in our hands, suddenly a looming figure rose in front of us. "A little late to be out and about, isn't it, boys?"

Dar and I stared at each other as we realized that it was his father, the one person we had been trying hardest to avoid. We stared at each other for a moment longer, and then grinned guiltily up at the King.

He raised an eyebrow. "Ah, let's see here, pieces of cake from last nights supper, and a small bag of nuts and a flagon of fruit juice each. Not hard to tell where you lads just were." He shook his head. "Follow me."

We gave each other a reassuring look before following the man. He took us around the Citadel, up the Tower of Ecthelion, and into his office, where we sat in two chairs before his desk. The King sat down in the throne-like chair behind his desk and casually asked, "So how long have these midnight excursion been going on?" We, of course, had no choice but to respond, and ended up pouring out how we had been doing this three time a week since I had first come to the City two months ago.

The King shook his head and chuckled. "I should have known," he muttered. "I used to do the same thing when I was a boy, and I should have known that Beren would do it, seeing as how you're so similar to me."

"I am?"

"In more ways than you think," the man replied. "I lost both my parents at a young age, I was always quite talented with weapons, I was on good terms with those of other races, and I was quite a mischievous youngster."

I grinned. "That does sound like me."

"Now anyway, I don't mind you boys getting together at night – you're up anyway, so why not – but stealing from the kitchens is a definite no. Remember what happened last time I caught you stealing from kitchens, Beren?"

I too clearly remembered. Eldarion stared at me. "You've stolen from the kitchen's before?"

The King was surprised. "That's how I met Beren. Or didn't he tell you?" The Prince shook his head. "Another time, then. Anyway, for the next two weeks you'll both be reporting to the kitchen after all three meals and will help with dishes. And you will inform Elluin of your nighttime gatherings so that she may participate in them if she wishes, although you may have one night with just the two of you. Understood?" We nodded, I mean, what else could we do? "Good night then, boys. I'll see you tomorrow."

So we began meeting with El twice a week and just the two of us boys once a week. A couple years later, El and I started privately meeting, although this wasn't found out until many years later, much to the King's dismay. I continued to gain increasingly important positions in the City until, when I was twenty-five, I became Captain-General. Then, around fifteen years after El and I got married, we became rulers of Arnor. But that is another story for another time.

And that, Elluin, is a full account of how I came to Gondor. I'm sure your father could add some things to it, and Eldarion as well, but I did the best I could. Navaer.

Beren Ellenroh


End file.
